#Kansas cemeteries

[floralmemorials]

A Quiet Hillside in Kansas

I went to Coronado’s Castle just outside Greensburg Kansas recently and this quiet beautiful cemetery was next to the castle entrance. First I should explain that the castle was built during the 1930s as part of a WPA project and Coronado had nothing to do with it other than to use his name. The cemetery is along a rolling hillside and even had a few cattle grazing at a distance.

[gothictravelguide]

Topeka Cemetery and Rochester Cemetery, Topeka, KS

[ourladyoflightleak]

[ambermaitrejean]

Kansas Gulch-Grandview Cemetery. Heeney, Summit County, Colorado. Photos by Amber Maitrejean

[ghost-sound]

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤, 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖. —𝔸𝕝𝕖𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕣 𝕂𝕦𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟, 𝕍𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕤.

[thinkgolden]

Red, WHITE, and Blue #kansas #snow #winter #cemetery #flag #trees #nature #roadtrip #photooftheday #l4l https://www.instagram.com/p/Cnu_eOwp9qy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[douglasburgdorff]

[surrealhaunts]

The Stull Cemetery is legend for its supernatural stories. It's a real life property, so don't go visit without proper permission. Plus, the locals are sick of its notoriety. Check out the video. The images below are what I used to make it.

According to AI, the witch who seduced Satan looks like this.

[graveyardrabbit]

Colma mention!

(Ghostland by Colin Dickey)

[letterstomygrandma]

Cemetery Visits

I used to visit the cemetery with you and my parents during the holidays and also whenever we felt like it.

We placed flowers and decorations to replace the old ones to honor grandpa and your son.

I’d take clovers and use my fingernails to push them into the lettering on their names. My mom let me know clovers were grandpa’s favorite flower.

Makes sense since grandpa was a farmer and planting clover in a field meant potentially more yields in the crops. But they were also so damn beautiful and intricate with their petals. And you could make necklaces and bracelets out of them too.

Christmas and Easter were the times I most remember visiting the cemetery. I didn’t realize until later that there may have been more meaning there since grandpa died the day after Christmas.

You died the day after Easter.

The cemetery is a mixed bag of emotions for me. Full of fond memories of being with you while you lived so fully…and then the memory of you being buried there.

I didn’t like it. Still don’t. Tears rush to my eyes just thinking about it. I still want you here with me to talk to. You got me and you didn’t have to say anything at all.

Even though I don’t like it it’s the one place I want to go now to see you. To talk to you about whatever is going on in my life. To cry. To laugh. To just be.

It’s a pilgrimage now.

My parents have plots of land reserved in that cemetery too. Not quite sure how I feel about that. But time doesn’t stop, does it? And we can’t predict where any of us will be later as much as we may like to.

I wish I could’ve gone to the cemetery once more to say goodbye to you before moving to Europe. It’s a missing piece for me.

I’ll return to Kansas though. It’s my touchstone. My grounding. A place where I’ll never belong but will always have my heart.

[morbidology]

On the afternoon of January 2, 1935, a young man entered the Hotel President in Kansas City, Missouri, asking for a room for the night. He had no luggage and signed in under the name “Roland T. Owen,” receiving the key to room 1046.

Shortly after, the maid entered to clean the room and found him sitting in the dark, despite the daylight outside. He seemed nervous and uneasy, and as she cleaned, he asked her to leave the door unlocked, stating he was expecting a friend. Later that day, she returned to leave fresh towels and found him lying on the bed next to a note that read: “Don, I will be back in fifteen minutes. Wait.”

The next morning, the maid again found Owen sitting in the dark. He took a call from “Don” during her visit and stated he wouldn’t be getting breakfast. Before she left, he asked her about her duties at the hotel, a strange conversation that added to his mysterious demeanor. When she returned later that afternoon with more towels, an unidentified male voice inside the room told her they weren’t needed.

Later that day, another guest reported hearing a woman’s angry voice from room 1046, suggesting a confrontation was taking place. Around 11 p.m. that night, a driver downtown encountered a man running in the winter cold, dressed only in pants and a shirt, with a large wound on his arm. The man asked for a lift to a place where he could catch a taxi, but the driver, mistaking him for a vagrant, did not help him.

The next morning, hotel staff noticed the phone in room 1046 was off the hook. A bellboy was sent to check on the guest. Receiving no response, he used a master key to enter and discovered a gruesome scene. Blood was smeared on the walls and floor, and in the bathroom, “Roland T. Owen” was found on his knees, with his wrists and neck bound by rope. He had been brutally stabbed and bludgeoned but was still alive. When asked what happened, he weakly claimed he had “fallen against the bathtub.” He succumbed to his injuries later that night.

A subsequent investigation revealed that the name “Roland T. Owen” was fake. No clothing, toiletries, or personal belongings were found in the room, deepening the mystery. To identify the victim, authorities displayed his body at a local funeral home, and several people came forward, recognizing him from various places, but each had a different name for him.

As weeks passed, the man remained unidentified, and plans were made to bury him in a cemetery for unknown persons. However, police received an anonymous letter asking them to delay the burial and promised a large sum for a proper funeral. Days later, the money arrived, and he was buried at Memorial Park Cemetery. An anonymous donor also sent a bouquet of flowers to a local florist with a card that read, “Love Forever – Louise.”

The case remained cold until 1936, when Eleanor Ogletree read about the murder in a magazine and suspected the victim was her missing brother, 17-year-old Artemus Ogletree, who had disappeared in 1934. The family had received typewritten letters from Artemus in the spring of 1935, stating he was traveling in Europe, but they were suspicious since Artemus didn’t know how to type. A few months later, they received a phone call from a man claiming that Artemus had saved his life in Egypt and was happily married to a woman he had met there.

When the Ogletree family saw a photograph of the murder victim, they confirmed their worst fears—it was indeed Artemus. This revelation led to even more questions.

Why had he used so many fake names? Who was the woman reportedly in his room? Who was Don? What happened the night he was seen disheveled and wounded? Who paid for his funeral, and who was “Louise”? Most importantly, who killed Artemus Ogletree, and why? These questions remain unanswered to this day, leaving the tragic death of Artemus Ogletree one of the most perplexing unsolved mysteries in American history.

[lucysgraybird]

modern!billy with a farmers daughter!reader but not in the cute silly way?

youve grown up on a farm, ik billy is western but im actually thinking something more midwest; iowa/missouri/kansas

for the express purpose of the vibes of a once-great steel or railroad town, now resigned to notice by road trippers and academics researching the fall of industrial america

with this you've been kind of isolated; you had friends in high school but they've all either run as far as they could from their childhoods after graduation or languished in the remorse of not being able to escape

you. you didn't really want to escape; you're happy with your quiet ghostly life of taking care of your animals and avoiding talking politics with your parents

you grew up religious in a way that taught a god who was fear, you have made peace with a god who is your friend. knelt by your bed he has heard your deepest secrets told as girlish, gossipy whispers; your most outlandish, complicated questions asked like you are up too late at a sleepover

you are quiet for the most part, happy to twist your thoughts around into your head until they either make a pretty shape or break in two, and when you're not working the farm, you're wandering aimlessly through creeks and cemeteries and abandoned buildings

billy is, like everyone not born in a place like this, just stopping through - you meet him through your wanderlust, traipsing down a dead and dying main street as he pulls his equally moribund truck up to the curb, asking you for directions to the nearest mechanic

mechanic is the only one for miles and thus extortionate, but your father is handy and ready to help a stranger, so you tell billy that if his truck can make it a few miles up the road, he'll have a fixed engine for a reasonable price

he, of course, accepts and leans over to push open the door to give you a ride. you get to talking, learn that he was born in new york and has been living in new mexico, he's just travelling for a new job atm. he learns that you have lived here your whole life and have no real desire to move, have never had a reason to have that desire, and he smiles and tells you that he respects comfort in consistency, that he wishes he had a place he felt that settled

when you get back to your house your father helps billy fix his truck and your mother has you take iced tea out to the men, which you also drink a glass of while sitting on the cluttered porch and watching billy bent over the open hood

he's pretty, sure, but you cannot decide whether he is worth loving. if he is as transient as everything else that blows through this town like tumbleweeds, if - and a big if - you fell in love, would it flit away just as quickly as businesses seem to be closing down?

you pray those questions that night, as cricket song and sticky, heavy heat presses through your open window and gets circulated by a white box fan that stays on more for the comforting noise than any kind of cooling

god doesn't respond in words, because that's not how god works, but the next morning when you're in the grocery store squeezing plums to find one that is a little bit further from overripe than the others, billy finds you and tells you that he'll be staying in the motel in town for a few weeks (you make a face, he laughs) because his job has been delayed and maybe if you'd like to go out with him sometime, you could go to the one nice chain restaurant in town and if you decide you trust him (and his truck, which is still...questionably functional, even after repairs) enough, maybe you could drive out a little ways, just towards some of the corn fields? he would show you the stars?

and oh, you realize, this is god's answer and love and guiding hand. maybe it is time to move on.

[gothictravelguide]

Greetings! We bid you welcome to the Gothic Travel Guide.

We are a small team of folks living in Lawrence, Kansas, with a love of all things spooky. We have set out on a road trip of our home state with the intention of writing a travel guide for weirdos like us.

We plan to spend 2025 visiting gothic locales in Kansas, and aim to publish a physical copy of our travel guide by Spring 2026.

If anyone knows any eerie, macabre, or unusual destinations in Kansas, please let us know! We have a list of amazing places to visit, but we are always looking to add more. Our current destinations include haunted houses, ghost towns, new age/metaphysical stores, museums, cemeteries, and weird shops.

We're so excited to share our adventures with you. Come along with us - if you dare.

[ourladyoflightleak]

[ornii]

I didn’t realize how much people liked the Clark Kent Smallville X Wednesday Crossover. So I have to do a Part 2! Where you can read here!

The God Among Men, Part 2

(Y/n) and Wednesday continue to stare at each other. (Y/n)’s concentration breaks and he plummets from the sky to a loud bang on the ground, Wednesday quickly puts her string down and rushes to the balcony’s edge to see his fate. She peers over the railing and was surprised to see (Y/n) sitting up, rubbing his back.

“Ow..” he said, a fall that height should cause serious damage to the body but it looks like it did nothing to him. (Y/n) realizes just how bad this looks, his attention turns upward to Wednesday.

“Umm, Sorry!” He yells, before standing up to run away out of embarrassment. He hoped that this would be a singular mishap and leave it at that, unfortunately this is Wednesday Addams, and nothing is singular with her. (Y/n) unfortunately shared a chemistry class together so avoiding her was useless. The next morning was more than awkward, he kept his eyes locked on Miss Thornhill to avoid Wednesdays side eye. When class ends almost like a blur he’s already trying to get to the quad to lose Wednesday, getting round a corner he breathed a sigh of relief. Until Wednesday comes almost out of nowhere and pins him to the wall. Granted he towers over her at 5’11, her 5’1 absolutely intimidating stature wasn’t something the Kansas boy was used to.

“So, we have a peeping Tom in our midsts.” She keeps that cold, deathstare.

“No! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I was just listening to your music and I, got too close..” he sheepishly keeps his eyes from locking on hers.

“They’d expel you for what you’ve done, but.. I’ll consider looking the other way..” she said, his eyes slowly locked with hers. “For your undying service..”

“Undying Service? That, seems a bit extreme doesn’t it? Why not something more, mild?” He asks awkwardly.

“I don’t do mild. Either take my offer or be shipped away to a juvenile prison.”

“.. okay, fine.” He relents, Wednesday wasn’t your typical mean girl, she wasn’t mean she was, cold, Unnerving, probably dead too. But she knew how to use people to her advantage, no matter how pure hearted they are. “What do you want me to do?” (Y/n) asks, Wednesday steps back, letting him have his own personal space finally.

“Nothing. Yet. But I will call upon you, one day… it’s in your best interest to not forget our arrangement.” She gives one last threat before leaving like a shadow, (Y/n) let’s put a sigh, hoping that this will be quickly put to an end. Little did he know it was very, far from over.

“Why am I doing this?” (Y/n) walks though the cemetery with Wednesday, who’s ignoring his crying and whining.

“Because you swore an oath of Fealty.”

“No, no I didn’t.” He replies, “I’m being blackmailed.

“Same thing.” She retorts. They stop at a large tomb, “this, open it.” She said. (Y/n) looks at her.

“That’s it?”

“I can come up with more for you to do..” Wednesday ponders

“No no this is fine, I just expected, more.”

“More? It’s an ancient Crackstone tomb sealed for hundreds of years. I had to recruit someone who decipher the password to open it.” She says, (Y/n) simply turns his head to the door and concentrates, she watches red gleam from his eyes. She was stunned by the beam of intense heat that cut though the stone wall, he creates a shape hole and it begins to collapse. She steps back to avoid being crushed, (Y/n) so calmly lifted his hand, it hits his palm and didn’t move an inch, Wednesday watches in shock as he casually tosses the door to the side.

“So, we keep going?” He asks Her, Wednesday didn’t know what to say.

“Y-yes, let’s.” She said and walked into the Tomb, the cold decrepit place smelled of death. A lingering smirk crept along her face. (Y/n) felt the stench of death and he follows the girl around. Staring at the spot on the back of her head.

“So, what are you here for?” He asks her; who begins to look around the tomb.

“Do you remember Rowan?”

“The guy you said was murdered and who randomly appeared fine the next day?” He replies sarcastically. Wednesday morning chores his quip and searches the interior for any inscribing.

“Point is, It’s my belief that Rowan was killed, and the one you saw was a fake, someone meant to keep up appearances. It would be tragic to hear that a student was murdered here. Bad press and all that.” Wednesday explains, (Y/n) rubs his chin.

“Well when I used my X-ray vision, everything seemed fine with him.”

“X-ray Vision?” Wednesday Asks.

“Yeah, let’s me see though walls, rocks, inside the human body, no lead though.” He adds in.

“So it allows you to see though clothes as well.”

“Uh, Yeah?” He replies, and quickly makes the assessment of what Wednesday was thinking. “I didn’t use it on you. I promise.” He said, Wednesday stares daggers into his eyes and sees he’s genuine about it, and drops the conversation.

“Point is, I had a, vision.. Crackstone putting innocent lives to the stake. Nevermore lives, like you and I.” Wednesday looks over to multiple inscriptions over the tomb.

“So my theory lead to the serial killer and the knee covering up the murders. They aren’t working together, but they’re covering up third killings to avoid more scrutiny from the public.” She explains, reading a tombstone.

“So, they’re letting this killer get away because they don’t want the public to freak out?”

“So to speak, from what the Principal tried to infer to me, it’s all ridiculous And self serving for Jericho.”

“… You’re right.” He said, Wednesday wasn’t used to hearing someone actually agree with her.

“It’s wrong, covering up the truth to make life easier, just makes the people who know it hate it even more.” (Y/n) walks over to Wednesday, their height difference was profound as she had to almost look up to him.

“If you’re searching for the truth. I want to help, I’m not as smart as you I’ll admit but I’ll do my best.” He says, Wednesday, even if she didn’t act like it, appreciated the gesture. The two exit the tomb and Wednesday dusts herself off.

“As much as I enjoy the decrepit and cold ambiance, I hate getting my clothes with cobwebs.

“I could blow it off for you.”

“If your breath could freeze me to death like you said, I’d rather not.” She says, (Y/n) checks his watch.

“It’s nearing 3, we’ll be late for class.” (Y/n)

“And Weems would have my head for being late.” Wednesday said, grumbling. (Y/n) offers his hand, Wednesday looks at it and then back up to him.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I despise human contact, especially yours.”

“Wednesday, if we want to find this Killer we have to stay in Weems Good graces, so put your big girl Stockings on and take my hand!” He said with much more serious flare. Wednesday reluctantly sighs.

“Fine, just do what’s necessary—“ Before she could properly warn him, he swept her off her feet like the Prince Charming he is, and leaped, flying into the air. The sudden shift in air and temperature caught Wednesday off guard, she looked down, seeing the cemetery and the entire Nevermore grounds before her.

Height was always something she never truly appreciated until now, being able to see, everything, changed that. (Y/n) held her close as he searched for the Mathematics and Murder class. Finding the door he slowly descends down. Wednesday’s eyes went to his face as he kept them on the ground, he descended from the sky as if he was a god among men, landing calmly on the Quad he lets her go, still having his arm around her waist to keep her balance.

“Feeling okay?” He asks.

“Get your hand from around me before you lose it.” She demands, (Y/n) quickly moved, “Sorry.” He said, Wednesday said nothing and simply walked to class, she didn’t look back at him, either out of anger or embarrassment. (Y/n) shook his head and went to his. It seems this agreement could be much more than Wednesday herself could have asked for.

[itsivyboyd]

Some of my favorite headstone at Union Cemetery in Kansas City, MO